


Hunter's Moon

by J_L_Nevole (Brambleshadow_of_WindClan)



Series: Moonlight [6]
Category: Def Leppard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Full Moon - Hunter's Moon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/J_L_Nevole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe and Sav face Sav's second full moon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hunter's Moon

The moon, bright and fat, is blinding to his sensitive eyes as it hovers outside the window. Sav, sweaty and pale, glares up at it and gives it the finger before pushing back the covers.

He’s so, so hot . . .

He groans, bites his lip. The change is very near, maddeningly so. Why won’t it come?

He nearly howls with frustration. There’s an itch consuming him from the inside out and he has no way to scratch it. It’s dizzying, maddening, and he closes his eyes against the rush.

When he opens them, the moon seems incandescent, like it has caught fire. To his lupine eyes, it is washed in blood.

He wonders briefly where Joe has gone before remembering that the alpha is out on the hunt. Sav’s nails dig into his palms, draw blood.

Now he knows: The change will happen tonight.

Sav laughs feverishly as he feels his bones begin to burn and crack. His nails thicken and lengthen into claws; blood seeps from his gums as his teeth twist into spikes; his jaws and nose push out into a muzzle as his ears, pointy and furred, travel up the sides of his head. The bass player in Def Leppard shucks off his boxers, rolls over onto all fours, tensing the muscles in his legs and abdomen to will the transformation on faster. Silken hair worms from every pore even as his muscles acquire lupine strength. The bright yellow color spinning through his eyes at the start of the change has faded, leaving them their own shade of deep blue.

He jumps down off the bed, heart beating sure and strong. This room means nothing to him anyway. All he owns is the night world and everything in it.

Wait. He pauses, sniffs at the air. Yes, there is food here—lots of it.

And he’s hungry.

Very hungry.

Sav pads on silent paws out of the room and down the hallway, following the smell of live meat. One door is slightly open, and he noses it open even further, already salivating. He’s so close . . .

His prey is wrapped in soft sheets, but that doesn’t bother him—one ankle is sticking out far enough for him to lightly clamp his teeth on the skin. He tightens his hold, then jerks back, hobbling his prey. It lets out a startled yelp as it lands on the floor, eyes snapping open only to widen in horror as the wereling goes for its throat.

Blood coats his muzzle, pools stickily around his paws as he feeds. A noise makes him look up only to see his victim’s mate. Sav bares his fangs, hackles rising, and lunges, his only thought to protect his kill.

Prey often squeal; this one is no exception, though its cries are cut short.

Before he begins to feed upon this one as well, he raises his head and howls his exultant thanks to the moon. . . .

*

The strangled cry tore out of Sav as he snapped out of the dream and lurched into a sitting position. His chest heaved; his sheets and skin were soaked with sweat. Face pale, he glanced out the window at the nearly-full moon before flipping it off. It was the moon’s fault he was feeling like this. Well, not exactly.

Sav looked down to see Joe, still asleep, lying on his side of their bed. The singer, his alpha, rolled so he was closer to the bassist, making a small noise of protest when he didn’t feel Sav’s warmth where it ought to have been. Pale-green eyes opened, saw that Sav was bolt upright, and this prompted Joe to sit up as well.

“What is it, Sav?”

He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to retch. The mauled corpses of the Terror Twins were still fresh in his mind’s eye—and his inner wolf was drooling. Finally he managed, “Have you ever had nightmares close to the full moon?”

Joe frowned slightly as he thought the question over. “When I was newly turned, yeah. Sav, the closer it is to the full moon, the easier it is for your lupine to take hold of you.”

And tomorrow was the full moon . . . the Hunter’s Moon . . .

He felt even more nauseous now than he had seconds before.

“What was your nightmare about, Sav?” Joe queried, both concern and ghoulish curiosity in his voice.

Sav was silent for a while. Finally he answered, “I killed Phil and Steve.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like he wanted to distance the words from the emotions they conveyed. “I was in ’wolf form, and they were nothing more than food.” He shuddered. “I actually _liked_ it.”

“Sav.” One of Joe’s hands rested on his shoulder, and the beta leaned back into his alpha without realizing he was doing it. “Your ’wolf is not a killer because _you_ are not a killer. You’re a wereling, remember?”

That elicited a scoff from the bassist. “Some wereling I am if I can’t control my ’wolf. How come you’re able to control yours when you change?”

“My anchor,” Joe said simply.

Sav’s blue eyes narrowed. “Which is what, exactly?”

“For me, it’s you. I guess it has been ever since I met you.”

Sav blinked. He wasn’t exactly sure why that came as such a surprise, especially since he was now a beta werewolf himself and mated to the alpha of their strange pack, no less. Even before he’d been accidentally turned, Joe had made it quite clear that his ’wolf wanted Sav—both sexually and as a lupine. (As Joe had explained it to him, when the wolf picked its mate, the human side was unable to resist. It had scared both of them—especially Joe, because he’d been straight—or maybe bi; it was hard to tell sometimes—for so long.)

“That didn’t exactly answer my question, Joe.”

“Sorry. An anchor keeps me grounded when I’m ’wolf. Since you’re a wereling, I have no idea if you need one or not.”

“What are we going to do about tomorrow?”

“Lock ourselves in the basement, I guess,” Joe said with a shrug. “Now go to sleep.”

With that, he promptly fell back on his pillow and was out cold. Sav sighed before doing the same.

This time, no dreams disturbed him.

*

Joe snapped awake when something cold and wet hit him in the face. He gasped and coughed, shook his head to get the cold drops of water out of his eyes and hair, and a growl escaped when he saw the retreating forms of Phil and Steve.

“I’m gonna kill you!” he yelled, leaping out of bed and sprinting after the Terror Twins. Sav was right on his heels.

<Well, this is an odd way to start the day,> Sav commented in thought-speak.

Joe sent a growl into the beta’s head. <Shut up and run. Do you want to catch them or not?>

Sav’s mental response was an evil-sounding, <Let’s do it.>

“You’re going to have to catch us first!” Phil called over his shoulder, replying to Joe’s dire prediction issued thirty seconds earlier.

“And when we do,” Joe shot back, “you’ll be dead!” When he was close enough, he leaped, taking Phil down easily. Steve, too, landed heavily on the floor with Sav on top of him. Instantly a wrestling match ensued with Phil and Steve trying to escape from Joe and Sav’s clutches, respectively, and the two lycanthropes refusing to give way.

The doors to Rick Allen and Peter Mensch’s rooms opened as both men stuck their heads out to see what all the commotion was about. Rick shouted, “Oi! Keep it down out there; some of us are trying to sleep, y’know.” Then he saw his bandmates going at it and rolled his eyes before walking out into the hallway dressed in boxer shorts and a T-shirt. Peter was in the hallway as well, muttering, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Both drummer and producer strode into the fray, working to separate the four men. Joe and Sav, snarling, landed on one side of the hallway. Phil and Steve were opposite them, and Rick and Peter were standing in the middle.

“All right,” Mensch snapped, staring the four Leppards down, “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what all _that_ was about.”

Joe nodded in the Terror Twins’ direction. “They started it.”

“I don’t care who started it, I’m ending it.” Peter rolled his eyes, cussed good-naturedly under his breath. “I swear, I’m dealing with a bunch of teenagers!”

All five Lepps exchanged glances. Steve wondered, “Was that a compliment?”

“No!” Their manager seemed to notice their state of dress for the first time. “For God’s sake, put on some decent clothes. No one wants to see you half-naked this early in the day.”

The Lepps could easily think of several people who would, but they wisely decided not to point that out. Instead, they all retired to their respective rooms, emerging minutes later dressed in jeans, socks, and long-sleeve shirts.

Sav sniffed at the air. “Hey, d’ you smell that?”

Joe scented the air as well. “Yeah. Food.”

There was a mad rush with all of them scrambling over each other, trying to reach the kitchen first. To almost no one’s surprise, Sav and Joe were the first to lay eyes on the breakfast spread laid out before them. Mouths watering, the two ’wolves dove in, piling their plates with fried eggs, bangers, toast, waffles, bacon . . . Their inner wolves were already licking their chops and drooling.

“You guys do know you have to perform tonight, right?” Peter Mensch said.

Both Sav and Joe tensed, their shared panic washing across their empathy link. Breakfast lay forgotten. The singer said, “Pete, Sav and I—”

“Let me guess,” the manager said, voice dripping sarcasm. “You’re sick.”

<What’re we gonna do?> Sav asked Joe telepathically. <We can’t exactly tell them it’s a Change Night.>

<Let me handle it,> Joe replied.

Sav growled quietly under his breath, but said nothing. Joe met Peter’s gaze and started, “Yeah, actually, a bit.”

“Any idea what it is?”

 _Yeah. Lycanthropy._ Joe didn’t say that out loud; he just nodded.

“Is it contagious?”

 _Only if one of us bites you when in lupine form._ Again, Joe nodded.

Mensch’s face softened, then hardened. “Sorry, but you’re still playing.”

Sav swore harshly. The others stared at him, Joe included. Phil said, “Wow, Sav, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not want to play.”

The bassist flashed him a moody glare. “This is different.” Wereling or not, he wasn’t sure if he could control his wolf while onstage surrounded by potential prey on a Change Night. Joe had had issues last month and he’d been lupine far longer than Sav.

Much to the two lycanthropes’ relief, the rest of the band dropped the issue and returned to the serious business of eating. When they were finished, it was on to the arena for rehearsals and a sound check.

*

Hours later, the band had taken their places onstage. Even though they couldn’t see the full moon, Sav and Joe could sense its path as it climbed higher in the sky.

They were maybe halfway through their set list, and so far neither of their wolves had tried to make an appearance. Though he was feeling antsy and slightly feverish, Sav was glad that his ’wolf was staying back deep in the shadows of his mind.

Once they’d finished “Animal”— _now_ Sav noticed the irony—Joe said to the crowed, “This next song is one of our B-sides, a track we’ve had lying around. I think it was on ‘Armageddon It.’ Here’s a little ‘Ring of Fire’ for ya.”

Sav, Steve, Phil, and Rick instantly launched into the intro after a few seconds of trying to remember how the song went. Joe was already bouncing around like popcorn—as usual—but his ’wolf needed the movement.

_“Thunder, you’re tempting me. A feast of spice in the night is what I need. Oh, I’m a-ready to roar, and I’m a-ready for more. I’m a-ready to burn like the light into the dawn._

_“Oh I gotta see the fire in me turning into ecstasy. So stick around and settle down, enjoy the mystery. A voice in the wilderness, there’s something in the air. A hidden love, forbidden pleasure, suffer secret pain. Thunder—Are you ready, ready for thunder? Feels like fire—Are you ready, ready for thunder? Ring of fire!”_

There was definitely irony in this song as well. To Joe more so than Sav, it could easily describe the delicious pain of the transformation.

At that thought, Joe could feel his ’wolf stirring. He inhaled deeply, partly for the next verse and partly so he could subdue the lupine, and focused on his anchor. The heat in his skin cooled, and his lips twitched in a smile. _Ring of fire indeed._

_“Heartless, so indiscreet, and you’re stealin’ up from behind, a raging heat . . .”_

Either he had joined Sav on that verse or Sav had moved closer to him. It didn’t really matter as he threw his free arm over Sav’s shoulder—and Sav briefly stopped playing to rest Joe’s hand on his chest. The feel of skin underneath the rough pads of his fingertips excited him, had his wolf howling, but Joe managed to wrestle both back under control. He thought dryly, _Talk about a raging heat._

_“. . . Oh I gotta see the fire in me turning into ecstasy. So stick around and settle down, enjoy the mystery. A voice in the wilderness, there’s something in the air. A hidden love, forbidden pleasure, suffer secret pain.”_

The others joined in on backing vocals for the chorus, and Joe reluctantly let go of Sav to mingle with other bandmates.

_“Thunder—Are you ready, ready for thunder? Feels like fire—Are you ready, ready for thunder? Ring of fire—Are you ready, ready for thunder? Oh, feels like fire—Are you ready, ready for thunder? Ring of fire . . .”_

When they finally finished “Ring of Fire” there was a moment of silence before hoarse cries echoed through the stadium. The band members exchanged relieved, weary smiles before starting the next song in their set.

*

They didn’t make it back until it was nearly ten-thirty at night. By then Joe and Sav were so restless and cagey that whenever a concerned bandmate asked what was wrong, the two men in question nearly bit their heads off—figuratively speaking.

Alpha and beta practically sprinted down the stairs into the basement, Joe pausing briefly to close and lock the door.

“You don’t really think that’ll hold us, do you?” Sav asked dubiously.

Joe shrugged. “The way I see it, we’ll be too occupied with each other to try escaping.” At Sav’s grimace he added, “Not in _that_ way! Is your mind always in the gutter?”

Sav flashed a toothy grin. “I learned from you, remember?”

“Fair enough,” Joe conceded after a few second’s thought.

There was silence. Finally, Sav broke it by saying, “Now what?”

“We wait,” the singer replied simply, “unless you have a better idea to pass the time.”

Instantly he was sorry that those words had ever left his mouth, since Sav smirked and flashed bedroom eyes.

“I didn’t mean that, Sav!”

“’Course you didn’t,” his beta grumbled, already starting to peel off his shirt. At Joe’s raised-eyebrow look, Sav defended himself, “What? I like this shirt and it’s going to get ruined when I shift.” That being said, he stripped down to his undergarments and sat down, resting his back and head against the nearest concrete wall.

Joe sighed before joining the bassist. It was going to be a very long ninety minutes.

*

The first stab of pain had him opening his green eyes. Joe wondered when he’d closed them, but the thought was soon gone from his mind as he welcomed the transformation. In many ways, he preferred his ’wolf form to his human one: the raw power, enhanced senses, his speed and agility. And as far as howling went, well, what was singing?

A low whine reminded him that Sav was here as well. He asked, <Sav, are you okay?>

The brown-pelted wereling’s thought-speak voice was a little shaky: <Yeah, I think so. At least, my ’wolf isn’t completely overwhelming.>

<Looks like I was right: You don’t need an anchor. Hey, wereling, perfect synthesis of man and wolf.>

Sav bared his fangs in a half-hearted attempt at a snarl. <Shut up.>

Joe lightly nipped at Sav’s muzzle. <Is that how you address every alpha you meet, _beta_? >

The wereling snorted and brushed past the blond werewolf. <Leave me alone, Joe.>

<Sorry, I can’t really do that, seeing as we locked ourselves in here.> Joe padded after the bassist.

Sav growled and whirled around, teeth snapping on empty air. <Did you think I really _wanted_ this? I’ve seen you during a full moon before, Joe, and it’s scary as hell. Sorry, but I don’t want to turn into that. >

Joe barked in frustration. <How many times do I have to explain to you that it’s not like that for you? You’re not like the rest of us, Sav. Can’t you get that through your thick skull?>

Sav’s muscles tensed. That was all the warning Joe had before the wereling leapt, blue eyes blazing.

Joe sidestepped easily and pounced, burying his fangs in Sav’s shoulder. Sav yelped, snarled, and lashed out with a forepaw, raking his claws along Joe’s flank. The two sprang apart, sides heaving, and stared each other down, Joe’s head and tail held high. Sav lowered his gaze in submission, started to tuck his tail between his hind legs.

<Have you got that out of your system?> Joe’s mental voice was snide, but he didn’t care.

<Yep,> Sav replied, trying to twist his head around to lick the wound on his shoulder. <How come it’s not healing?>

<Wounds from another lupine take a tad longer to heal.>

Sav stopped licking and snapped his head in Joe’s direction. <Is there anything else you haven’t told me?>

<Well, we’re not immortal but we do live to be a few hundred years old or so and stop physically aging around age thirty, give or take a few years.>

<Blimey.> Sav turned in circles a few times before lying down curled up in a ball. He rested his forepaws on top of his nose, his tail-tip lying on top of his paws. <Please tell me you’re joking.>

<Would I joke about something like this?> Joe curled up next to Sav, laid his head on the bassist’s flank. Then he lifted his head and rasped his tongue over Sav’s right ear.

Sav sighed, and his ear twitched. <No. What’s up with the whole circling-before-lying-down thing?>

<It’s instinct,> Joe said, amusement in his voice. <Is that all that’s bothering you?>

<No, no it’s not,> Sav replied softly.

<You want to talk about it?>

<Not really.> There was silence for a while; then Sav said, <Do you think the others heard us fighting earlier?>

<I doubt it. They’re probably out cold.>

<And if they ever saw us in ’wolf form?>

<Simple: We say they were hallucinating. Or we can get Jon to wipe their minds again.>

A shiver ran through the brown lupine. <Please don’t. He makes me nervous.>

Joe started to ask why before he remembered his own ’wolf’s reaction to the energy vampire. <Yeah, me too. Then again, any other supernatural creatures make my ’wolf edgy.>

<Mmm. Remember that night at the GhostWalk in Pueblo?>

Joe stopped grooming Sav and grinned a wolf grin. <Yeah. That was fun. Phil was absolutely terrified—and we managed to make him think it was just a dream.>

<Still . . .>

<Hey, it was Halloween. It’s not like he thought we really are werewolves. Is that all, because I’m tired and really want to sleep.>

Sav considered it. <I’m good.>

<Good. Now shut up and go to sleep.>

As Joe closed his eyes and drifted off, he thought he heard Sav whisper, <Love you.>

<Love you too.>


End file.
